


Christmas at the Eyrie

by ASongOfPetyrBaelish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Smut, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASongOfPetyrBaelish/pseuds/ASongOfPetyrBaelish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the snow creates fire, ignition is destined to consume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas at the Eyrie

The snow-covered Eyrie stood on the top of the mountain, despotic and impregnable. A mansion, painted with such dull colours that Sansa could compare it to a silent grave. It had been more than a month since Lysa had fallen out of the moon door. It would be a lie if she said that she missed her aunt’s presence. Her cousin Sweetrobin, sickly and spoiled, was hard enough to handle. Luckily, Petyr intimidated him and the boy respected and obeyed him.

It was right after dusk and snow had started falling. Sansa was sat on the window sill and watched how peacefully the thick snowflakes descended from the sky and fell all the way down the mountain’s altitude. The colossal height frightened her every time she looked down. Dainty fingers pressed against the frozen glass, yearning to be outside. To be free. The last time she had been at the snow-clad gardens, Petyr had kissed her and her aunt had witnessed it. She shivered at the memory but the whiteness outside the window drifted her thoughts to more blissful places. Not even the knock on the door captured her attention enough to look away from the beautiful scenery.

“Come in” she responded indifferently.

The wooden door squeaked as it opened, revealing the masculine form standing there. His reflection on the window made him appear like a shadow. She looked at him but her serious expression didn’t change. He was dressed in his business suit, black jacket with a matching black tie and pants and a white shirt to contrast them. He must be coming from a meeting with the Lords of the Vale, she guessed.

“Your room is cold, sweetling” Petyr hissed as he entered her room.

He stood close to her bed but his emerald oculars were transfixed upon her. Their moments alone since the kiss and Lysa’s fall had been very limited. Most of the times servants and guards would be around or worse, Robin. Ever since his mother’s death, he had been acting overly clingy towards Sansa. Now he wasn’t there to break the silence that had fallen between them. Petyr walked around her room with slow steps that revealed his contemplation.

“Do you know what day it is, Sansa?”

His question startled her but she tried her best to concentrate and answer correctly.

“Umm…Friday?” Her frown manifested her confusion.

Petyr smirked and nodded. “Friday yes, but not just any Friday. It’s Christmas.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. She had lost track of time ever since she had come to snowy manor. She clasped her hands and rubbed her thumbs together. Night was falling and it was getting colder.

“In that case, I guess…Happy Christmas…Petyr.” It still felt strange to address him with his first name but after all, it was his own request. Her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. She was uncertain why he had pointed out the day. She didn’t have him for someone who valued Christmas much.

“I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner” Petyr stroked his stubble. His stare was piercing her. “In the living room, at 8 o’clock. Agreed?”

Did she even have a choice? She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the chilly air that floated in her room.

“Yes. I will be there” She managed to give him a smile, though a puzzled one. Why in the living room and not in the dining room, as usual? Perhaps because of the occasion, he decided to change their eating environment. She should be grateful he didn’t choose the main hall where the moon door was positioned. She couldn’t imagine herself eating next to that hole on the floor, next to the abyss that lied below its open doors; especially not after her aunt fell. She swallowed thickly and watched him leaving. She had about half an hour to prepare.

When the door of her room was shut once more, she stood up and went through her wardrobe. Petyr hadn’t mentioned whether the dinner would be formal or extraordinary. Therefore, she simply chose a pair of blue jeans and a white lace-off blouse, and changed into them.  She plugged in the hair-straightener and combed her long auburn tresses while it was heating up. Once it was prepared, she straightened each strand carefully.

When she was ready, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Ever since she was a kid, everyone told her how alike she was with her mother. She could see it now. “You are more beautiful than she ever was” Petyr had told her a little before their lips had collided. After one last check that she looked decent and casual, she exited her room and descended the long dark staircase that led to the living room. When she was at the last steps and she had a view of the parlour, she paused, amazed. The fireplace was lit, subdued by a large fire that radiated decent warmth. The rest of the room was illuminated with candles. In the centre there was a large table, already served with turkey, salad and a bottle of wine. Next to it stood Petyr; dressed in a pair of black jeans and a grey button-front shirt, he looked more casual than she had ever seen him before. He was smiling with mere satisfaction at her surprise as he approached the end of the stairs and held out his hand.

“Come, sweetling. Dinner is served.”

She placed her hand in his reluctantly and curtsied. He tugged her close and bowed down to plant a soft seductive kiss on the back of her hand. Another blood-rush ran through her cheeks and she bit her bottom lip involuntarily. He led her to the table and pulled a chair for her to sit.

“Thank you” she muttered, striving to keep herself composed. Another wave of surprise washed over her when she noticed the red rose lying next to her plate. “How did you…” No roses grew in the Eyrie. Could it be he had sent someone to bring any from below the mountain, just for her?

“It’s a secret.” He gifted her with an enigmatic wink and took a seat opposite to her. He propped the bottle of wine open and filled their glasses. She could recognise its odour; Dornish red, of fine quality.

“A toast.” He declared and raised his glass. “To a Merry Christmas and a victorious return to Winterfell.” He had chosen his words carefully and he sealed them with a glorious smirk. She repeated his dedication and clank her glass to his.     


His grey-green eyes met her cerulean ones as they sipped on the red liquid contents of their glasses. Petyr committed himself to the cutting of the turkey and serving their plates with it as well as salad. Sansa watched him, silent and suspicious. What is he trying to get out of this? Her fingertips traced the scarlet petals of the rose. She must have been smiling since he intruded.

“Do you like it?” The corner of his mouth twisted upwards, revealing his pride. He knew that she would like it. She nodded and picked up her fork, making an attempt to focus on her food. The turkey was well done and the salad pleasantly scented. Occasionally, she would glance at him, only to realise that he was peeking at her as well whilst eating. She caught glimpse of the servant who entered the living room for half a heartbeat to set the pickup working. The crunching sounds of burning wood were now mixed with slow jazz music, soothing and captivating.

“I hope you like the songs. I wasn’t certain what kind of music you listen to” Petyr commented with a nonchalant sigh which was followed by another crafty smirk.

Once they were done eating, while Sansa was busy patting her lips with the napkin, he emptied the remains of the dark red wine in his mouth and stood up. He walked around the table and as she could see from the corner of her eyes, he never once looked away from her. He offered her his hand.

“Dance with me.”                       

 It wasn’t a question or a demand. It felt more like a kind suggestion, one she didn’t refuse. The dinner had been lovely and groovy and after all, dancing was something she enjoyed but hadn’t done in a long time. Perhaps it was also the wine who gave her the courage to place her fingers in his palm and let him guide her away from the table to the empty space right in front of the fireplace. As they stopped there, he encircled her waist with his free arm and pulled her closer until their faces were inches apart. She almost gasped at his sudden tight grasp but she pressed her lips together to suppress it. She laid her hand on his shoulder and met his stare one more time. The previous song ended and Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton started playing; Sansa recognised the song. It had always been one of her favourite slow songs. Her heart began beating faster and almost stopped when Petyr came closer and leaned the side of his head against hers. She closed her eyes right away and let him guide her steps. Slowly, melodically and rhythmically, they strolled around the wooden floor, following the tune of the song. She could feel his breath against her ear, warm and steady. His palm on her waist was firm and their fingers entwined. He refused to think; she only listened and felt. What did she feel?

They slow danced until the song was almost over. Sansa had given in to the melody, to the freedom, to the moment all her worries seemed distant and vague. The burning wood in the fireplace cracked when Petyr’s lips began grazing her exposed shoulder. His mouth was warm and moist and it placed such soft kisses on her skin that she shivered. His fingers slid out of hers slowly and his second hand came to her waist and pressed her closer to him. Their bodies were touching and before she could even realise it, they were clinging to each other. His seductive brims travelled on her neck and savoured its sweet taste with slow but hungry kisses. He was setting her skin on fire and even though her mind was telling her to pull away, she wanted to succumb. As if she didn’t have real control of her body, she slid her palm from his shoulder to the back of his head and buried her fingers in his black hair. She tugged on his short locks and elicited a soft moan as his alluring kisses continued all the way up to her mouth. The way he claimed her lips was possessive and yet the kiss was slow. His mouth sought hers with such sensuality that she went weak at the knees. She could taste the wine and the familiar mint. Their first kiss had been much different and brief. This time their lips massaged each other in a perfectly synchronised slow pace. Eventually, he pressed his tongue between her luscious brims and parted them in order to explore and relish her taste. She had been a fool to think she could resist and pull away; they were already beyond the point of no return. Inexpertly, her tongue met his and she moaned again as the two tangled together passionately. She brought her second hand to the side of his face and cupped it shyly. Such a consuming fire was strange and unfamiliar to her.

Their kiss lingered for a long moment. It only broke when Sansa found herself lying with her back on the floor and Petyr atop of her. The tips of their noses were touching but their eyes were now open and locked together. It surprised her how carefully he seemed to be studying her, examining her as if he was looking for a permission to go on. Did he really need one? Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breath was unsteady. When his gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, she knew that they were meant to be entwined. A sinister man of experience about to corrupt an angelic girl of innocence. He kissed her again, this time more fiercely and passionately. She whimpered at the forceful contact of their lips but she gave in nevertheless. Her logic had abandoned her and there was something new guiding her. She yielded into his feverish kiss and his tempting touch; his hands had slid beneath her top and grazed her abdomen. In response she grabbed the collar of his shirt and held him close; some kind of inner need was telling her to never let him take his lips off of hers. That only happened when he pulled back and helped her out of her blouse prior to collapsing on top of her again, crushing his lips to hers. She was beginning to feel breathless but somehow she found the strength to guide her shaky hands to the fabric of his shirt. Uncertain of her actions and the inexperience they were reflecting, she started undoing the buttons until his shirt was fully open. He shrugged it off and for the first time, they were skin to skin. The contact was delicate and yet insatiable. Being lost in their fiery kiss, she failed to focus on the way his hands worked their way to her shoulders and slid down the strands of her bra. He was ruthless but the slow manner he was easing into it was making his actions unbearably seductive. Once her bra was off, their bodies pressed against each other harder as if they were striving to be one already. The exposure made her want to cover herself but the weakness his seduction was casting on her made it impossible. Petyr glided a hand down the line of her cleavage before cupping one of her breasts in his palm. His lips muffled the moan she released when he squeezed and massaged it. Sansa’s hands rested on his back and traced its muscles, trying to get to know his skin, his body, all the tantalising sensations. Their hungry kiss had left them both breathless, therefore he lowered his mouth to her neck and tasted it with his tongue and teeth. At the same time, his hands found their way to her jeans and undid the button so they were loose enough to slide down her legs. She kicked them off; any kind of hesitation was gone. The bites and sucking on her neck, the way their hips were pressing against each other, they sent waves of heat down her body. She didn’t know the feeling but she realised that it was filling her with anticipation and desire...desire for him. She laid her hands on his chest and glided them down his torso, slowly and shyly. A part of her feared that her callowness would make him stop but on the contrary, it seemed to excite him. As she unbuckled his belt and undid his jeans clumsily, his kisses on her neck and collar-bone became more ardent and eager. He helped her take his jeans off completely so they were both left in almost full exposure. This time his hands searched her thighs, running over her skin with mere smoothness. She arched into him reflexively when she felt his palm on her inner thigh, tracing the lines of her underwear. It didn’t take long for those to come off too. Their complete nudity and vulnerability to each other’s hunger and passion, made Sansa shiver at the contact with his skin. Her mind was spinning and her heart was racing. Another whimper escaped her parted lips when his fingers explored and rubbed her most private area. The silk moisture there in combination with his expert fingers sent consuming sensations down her spine. She hooked her legs around his hips instinctively and locked them around his lower back. Their lips collided again passionately when he entered her. She winced due to the stinging pain but he didn’t move until her walls had adjusted to his size. The pain was replaced by pleasure and satisfaction once he began moving. His thrusts were slow and every time he pushed inside her, he went deeper and maximised the sensual feeling of their connection. Their lips broke apart and their foreheads pressed together, azure and grey-green eyes staring into each other. The flames in the fireplace next to them were so small that they couldn’t even see them. Their fire was blinding. The sighs of the two lovers filled the atmosphere and steam fell all around them as they were becoming one. The eye-contact, the shivers on their skin, the pounding hearts, the swollen lips...As Petyr was inside her, for the first time Sansa felt whole.


End file.
